Roses
Roses
Red is the color,
I caressed it with my fingers,
'Softly' said my mother,
Yeah! It's really tender.
I felt like in a cage,
Heaps of books on my table,
I caressed it lazily,
'Come on' yelled my mother.
Am I not tender,
Like the red red rose,
I wish I was one,
For all the care.